Wonderful
by musicalfreak86
Summary: A story about Mrs. Lovett. The final moments of a woman insanely desperate for love.


** I do not own Sweeney Todd. **

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It was wonderful. She had finally gotten her way. Mr. Todd's wife was dead, and by his own hand nonetheless. It was no loss to him. His wife was no longer capable of love. She, Mrs. Lovett was the one he really needed. Only she could give him what he wanted. His wife was but an empty shell, damaged beyond repair by the arsenic she had so foolishly taken. The ninny had taken the wrong amount. She had lived! When Mrs. Lovett had heard this displeasing news, she had known for sure that there was no way she could have Benjamin Barker as her own. When he returned, she knew that he would go back to his wife without a second thought, no matter what she had done to herself. He wouldn't care, and she would be alone again.

So, when he did return, she told him that his wife was dead by her own hand. She included the arsenic, yes, but not the fact that his she had lived. And he had believed. She spent the first few days nervous. The stupid, damaged woman kept hanging around the bakery, begging for alms and throwing strange warnings at passerby. It was not as though there weren't other places in London, other streets to beg on. Sometimes Mrs. Lovett wondered if maybe some small part of her that was still sane remembered the place and felt drawn to it, even if she didn't know why. This made her all the more anxious. There was no telling what the crazy woman might say, or suddenly remember. She was terrified that Benjamin Barker, now Sweeney Todd, would recognize her. She was actually rather surprised that he didn't. If he really loved her as he claimed he did, then it seemed to Mrs. Lovett that something about her should seem familiar to him. And if he found out that she had lied, oh, there was no telling what he would do. This man was out of his mind, as she had discovered when he killed Pirelli. He would probably slit her throat as well.

But somehow, and it was a miracle, he hadn't recognized her. He had passed by her many a time on his way in and out of the shop, but he always ignored her as he would any beggar woman. And Mrs. Lovett was relieved to see no spark in her eyes. Her ruined mind would not allow her to remember.

When he began his business of killing, and they had joined together into one horrible, bloody team, she had thought he was hers for sure. He had shown her more respect, true, even adopting a pet name for her. But that was all. There was no love. She needed love from him. She had waited years. She knew that he was capable of it. It was what had spawned his rabid thirst for revenge, which was so strong. There was so much love behind his cold anger, but none for her. Not even a fraction could be spared.

She masked her disappointment from him, knowing he wouldn't be pleased. Her shop was getting busier now, what with the new meat pies, and tending to it helped keep her mind off of his lack of emotion. But on top of all the extra work that had come with reopening the bakery, that woman had taken to getting inside, trying to convince the guests that something was wrong where it wasn't. Every time she would turn to see her winding around the tables, her pulse quickened, and she would instinctively glance around for Mr. Todd. Toby had become rather adept at throwing her out, but keeping her out was another matter. Mrs. Lovett grew more and more anxious. She was sure now that Mr. Todd would not have a second thought about killing her, not with all the other people he had offed as though they were bugs on her counter. True, they were complete strangers to him, but she could no longer fool herself into believing that he really cared for her.

As if she didn't already have enough to worry about, Toby had begun getting suspicious as well. He questioned the sincerity of Mr. Todd's real business, and kept insisting that he was a bad man, and that she was in danger. He didn't disagree with that idea, but she reassured Toby that everything was fine, and that he had nothing to worry about. But when the child began threatening to go to the law, she knew what had to be done. She hated locking him away, and she hated even more what she knew had to happen in the end. She loved the child, but she had Mr. Todd depended on the business too much. She couldn't risk losing it now. And if the law was called, there was no telling what would become of them. She knew that what they were doing was illegal, there was no denying it.

But then, something terrible happened. Something terrible, and yet so wonderful. Mr. Todd killed his own wife, and without even knowing it. Somehow she had gotten inside, gotten that close to him, and still he hadn't seen who she was. Mrs. Lovett almost wanted to laugh at how clueless the man was. Foolishness was what had led to his imprisonment in the first place. One might think he would learn from his mistakes, but apparently not. She had found out a long time ago that men were slow learners, if they ever learned at all. This was no exception.

In order for the wife to be out of the way completely, she knew she had to do some very quick thinking. Toby had disappeared into the sewers, possibly heading for the law. She and Mr. Todd had searched for him, but she knew that, originally being a street urchin, he could hide well enough that it would be impossible to find him. He could reappear at any moment, or worse, Mr. Todd could venture downstairs. While he may not have recognized his wife in the dim light of the shop, down here in the furnace's flickering glow she was easily seen for who she was.

She ventured over to where the wife lay motionless by the Judge, whom Mr. Todd had gotten to at last. She was lucky, he should be in a very good mood now. She began to heave the woman, heavy in death, toward the furnace. She was forced to stop, however, when something pulled at the bottom of her dress. She leaned down, prepared to loosen her skirt from whatever had caught it. The fabric was always getting stuck on nails or loose floorboards, so the action had become second nature to her.

But when she looked down, her breath caught in surprise and horror. The Judge had hold of her skirt in his last moments alive. She looked into his face, choking on his own blood, throat cut deep, hands flexing feebly, and she could see the life leaving his eyes. In his panicked, accusatory eyes, she could see all the people she had assisted in killing, all staring at her with that same look. The weight of everything she had done suddenly crashed down on her, and she found herself screaming unexpectedly.

When she realized what she was doing, she abruptly clapped her hands over her mouth. The sudden stench of blood, dirt, and who knew what else reached her nose, and she gagged, stumbling away from the bodies. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and clutching her chest. It took everything she had to fight back the rush of guilt and nausea that had come with seeing the Judge's half-dead eyes. She knew that she had to go back, that she had to get rid of the wife before Mr. Todd came downstairs. She knew he would, what with all the screaming she had done.

A few long, determined strides took her back to where the woman lay. She hoisted her up again, very purposefully avoiding looking at the Judge. Mr. Todd would have to take care of him. She didn't think she could manage. She knew that he would probably want to finish the job himself anyway.

As soon as she began dragging the wife towards the furnace, however, the door swung open. She dropped the body immediately, turning to lock eyes with Mr. Todd. He walked over to where the bodies lay, gloating over his murder of the Judge. Mrs. Lovett stood by the furnace, fingers crossed behind her back, hoping, praying for the first time that he would not notice the body lying next to the Judge. Her prayer was not answered though, and in a crazy desperate moment, she wondered if prayers ever were answered. If there was a God, he sure was choosy about what he let happen. With a sinking feeling, she watched as he looked down at his wife. Realization, shock, and disbelief played over his face, along with horror at what he had done, but didn't want to believe. He knelt to brush the hair from her face, and his horrible suspicions were confirmed.

Slowly, he looked up to meet Mrs. Lovett's eyes. She could see a mix of fear, betrayal, and despair all there, but most prominent out of all of them, was rage. The emotions, twisting, conflicting, driving him mad, were so many times worse than the dead man's final accusatory stare.

Terrified at what might happen, she launched into a frenzied explanation of why she had done it, why she had lied. Though she had gone over it so many times in her head, trying to justify herself, to herself, it sounded absolutely ridiculous coming out. The more she tried to make it make sense, the worse it sounded.

And then he was getting up and beckoning to her with that razor in his hand, that horrible shining razor that had snuffed out so many lives with one quick, violent slash, and he had that mad glint in his eye, which she had seen so many times before this and had always feared the day when it would be directed at her.

And then he told her that it was alright. He said that everything was fine and what was dead was dead, and was not to be dwelt on. She was in his arms, and they were spinning and spinning, and everything was wonderful, and the razor was forgotten, as was his past, lying dead in the dust they kicked up in their frenzied waltz. She had gotten her way. She would have her house by the sea, just she and Mr. Todd and Toby, and everything was just so wonderful!

But then, with that same horrible sinking feeling she had felt when he gazed upon his wife's lifeless body with recognition on his face, she saw that the madness was still in his eyes. She realized then that everything was not wonderful, and that she would never have her house by the sea, and that he did not love her, and that she would never see Toby again, and that...

And that she had left the furnace door open.


End file.
